


Fifteen

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fix-It, Friendship, Fury has feelings here, It gets angsty before it gets better, M/M, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It could have been years, or months, days, or even only moments, the time they were incomplete, missing a gear in their machinery of order and chaos. But they knew, oh how they knew, that everything would right itself again, even if it would take a while for the pieces to slot back in place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen

**Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone**  
At the Shawarma place, where they’re all laughing and saluting each other on a job well done, the smell of smoke and ash and fresh food in the air, Clint takes a mouthful and asks, eyes bright despite the exhaustion and fault, _hey, Cap, did you see Phil’s cards? Awesome, aren’t they?_ , cheeks flushing like it’s the sweetest thing in the world, and they all freeze.

 _Clint_ , Steve doesn’t reach a hand out but Natasha does. _I’m sorry_ , she says and wraps her arms around him.

He’s silent for a month.

 

 **Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,**  
He answers their questions and laughs through the days. 

_Everything’s peachy_ , he says, like he isn’t hurting on the inside and trying to distract them with indirect answers and wavering smiles. 

_Everything’s fucking peachy_ , he laughs hysterically, pulls away from them when they get too close, and they decide, regretfully, to let him be for a while.

 _Everything_ , he stutters, _everything’s fucking, fucking peachy_ , he laughs and weeps around a glass of scotch, and they know he’s desperately trying to convince himself of that. 

 

 **Silence the pianos and with muffled drum**  
 _Hey, hey Coulson_ , he used to whisper, any ounce of professionalism replaced by a flirtatious chime. _I’m bored. Entertain me._

Coulson, Phil, would reply something so monotonous that it isn’t until now do they realize the utter affection hidden underneath their banter.

 _Barton_ , he would sigh, as if irritated with the world, indulgent, _shut up._

_Sir, yes, sir!_

He doesn’t joke anymore. The comms have gone silent and even Tony doesn’t dare break the silence.

 _Target spotted_ , Clint says, _I’m moving in_ , before the line cuts off and it hurts them so much at how blank, how dead, it sounds.

 

 **Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.**  
He takes out a small photograph, well worn around the edges, the proof of a well-loved memory, and talks. He talks about him, as if he was in the other room, and his voice breaks and hitches at every sentence. 

_He doesn’t know I have this_ , Clint whispers, as if sharing a secret, and shows them a photograph of Phil, fast asleep and so warm and soft and beautiful, that they have to look away. 

_He doesn’t like it when I take candid shots_ , he says, and they know they should stop him from speaking in present tense, _but I do it anyways_.

It’s painful, they don’t know what to say, but they shed their tears with him.

 

 **Let airplanes circle moaning overhead**  
He talks about that one time, when he was a child, still learning tricks in the circus he grew up in, when he almost fell off a trapeze and broke his neck. 

_I’ve always been afraid of falling_ , he says and tiptoes the ledge of the tower, terrifying them of thoughts they know Clint has always had ever since Phil.

He doesn’t look at them and they carefully inch closer. Clint’s so close to jumping, so close.

But when they think he’s given up, just when Thor is about to dive after him, he walks away from the edge and smiles at them, eyes worn and shining, cheeks glistening.

_It wasn’t until he found me that I learned there’d be someone who’d always catch me._

They don’t worry about him jumping anymore.

 

 **Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,**  
He takes to looking at the sky now. 

It becomes routine to them. 

When they needed to find him, he’ll usually be on the roof, hands behind his head and watching the clouds. 

Sometimes, when the day is gloomy and the skies cry, they bring him in and don’t mention the redness of his eyes or the shaking of his hands and instead wrap him with warm blankets and careful arms.

 

 **Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,**  
They find him on the roof with Hulk expecting the worst. 

Only, they find them sitting cross legged and Clint tying a white ribbon to Hulk’s index finger. 

_It’s weird, it’s ironic, and it’s funny, but so amazing_ , he says and ties off the bow with a flowing knot, _that his favorite color would be white. It’s not even a color, but its Phil_ , he titters and Hulk just nods mournfully before poking at the archer’s chest with his bow tied finger.

_Hulk miss Phil too._

 

 **Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.**  
Clint is quiet during the briefing, more subdued than usual, at least for the past months, and it isn’t until they notice something strange, something new, that everything is explained to them. 

The Director tugs at the cotton turtle neck they’d all been conspicuously staring at. 

_A gift_ , was all he says, and they don’t bring up the sudden grief (and doubt?) in his eyes or the broken look everyone’s suddenly sharing.

 

 **He was my North, my South, my East and West,**  
They go to New Mexico, near the area where Mjolnir crashed, for a mission. 

Things go well and everything gets done, fairly quickly, and when he suddenly disappears, they only wait a day for him to return and they head back home.

 _I’m surprised you didn’t get lost, Clint_ , Tony laughs but they can hear the somberness in his voice. He claps Clint on the back and wraps a shoulder around him.

 _Nah, I already got lost once_ , he replies and leans in to Tony’s embrace, _someone’s already showed me the way home_.

 

 **My working week and my Sunday rest,**  
They issue a movie night for the sole purpose of bonding, and if they were all looking at Clint when they’d decided this nobody spoke up. 

On the first day, when everyone was still arguing for which movie to watch, Clint awkwardly shuffles his feet and lifts a box of original, high quality films. 

_Gene Kelly?_ Tony asks the question everybody wants to say. 

_Phil’s always loved him_ , he whispers, sullen and hopeful. 

They watch everything in the box without further argument.

 

 **My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;**  
They’re walking along the street, disguised as ordinary citizens, when he sees an old rustic Viola sitting on a shelf at an antique store. They all watch as he frantically reaches into his pockets before charging into the counter without a moment’s hesitation. 

When they get home, he rushes to his room and carefully places it beside his Cello before locking himself in. 

Natasha looks away from them, _Phil had been looking for one to play with him_ , was all she says before disappearing into her own room.

They all sleep to the soft weeping of strings somehow missing a second tune.

 

 **I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.**  
 _I’ve always thought I’d go first_ , he whispers, out of the blue, and they all freeze. 

_Clint, stop beating yourself up, alright?_ Tony says and they hold their breaths, _no one expected it._

 _That too_ , was all he replies, _I thought we’d last you know, fucking forever, or at least for a while, I knew one of us would go, I just_ , he stops and looks away, _I didn’t think it’d be so soon_.

 _No one does_ , Bruce says, more to himself, and all of them nod in sullen agreement.

 

 **The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;**  
Fury comes to the tower without any warning. But all the same, they welcome him into their living room, into the edge of the couch they were all occupying, and turned the television screen on. 

The lights dim but the screen stays bright. 

If anyone ever looked to their sides they would’ve seen tears streaming down everyone’s face, smiles broken and pained and bittersweet, an odd frown on Fury’s. Except they don’t. Instead, they keep their eyes on Phil and laugh, painfully, breathlessly, hysterically, at his inability to resist sweets, donuts especially.

 _I couldn’t decide_ , Phil whispers to the flabbergasted cashier and they all chuckle.

Fury leaves hours later but they stay, sleeping side by side, in the darkened room.

 

 **Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;**  
There’s a heavy storm that night and they do nothing but sit around the kitchen cradling hot coffee in their cold palms. 

_I have always found Phil’s coffee to be the most magnificent of all of Midgard_ , Thor looks at Clint and his hand tightens on his mug. _You have been greatly blessed, my friend, for having known the noble Son of Coul the best_.

Clint takes a long sip before looking out, towards the storm, _I’ve never thought otherwise_.

 _Aye_ , Thor lands a heavy hand on Clint’s shoulder and lightning strikes outside, _he too was blessed to have been your other half, Clint_.

The sun doesn’t shine the next day but Clint’s smile was blinding.

 

 **Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.**  
It takes quite a while but Steve was tired of running.

 _Tell me more?_ Steve bites his lip and sits beside Clint, _I want to know more about Phil._

_Did you know he was wearing socks of you when we, well_ , Clint flushes, his eyes shining, and Steve feels a clamp in his chest, _when we became us._

_I heard about the posters. Where they real?_

_Yeah, I bought half of them._

Clint replies and they spend hours talking about Phil and everything else that made him who he was.

 _I miss him, Clint,_ Steve whispers and ducks his head, rubs at his eyes, _I’m really sorry, sorry. He deserved so much better from me. I, I-_

 _I miss him too_ , Clint leans on him and Steve can feel the dampness through his shirt, the tremors that shook his body. He sighs and brings the smaller man to his chest, lifting his head and biting his lip as his own eyes sting. 

_I miss Phil_ , Steve hears and the trembling body against his chest pains him even more.

 

 **For nothing now can ever come to any good.**  
Clint gets shot on a mission. He bleeds over the pavement, red pooling across the concrete, curling around their feet and coating Natasha’s knees and hands in crimson.

He closes his eyes and they don’t know if they should feel at peace or scared with the smile on his bloodied lips, at the name it forms.

But help arrives on time and he survives the bullet in his chest. 

When he wakes up however, to the warmth of Natasha’s hand in his, surrounded by them and white walls, his eyes go wide and he sobs on her shoulder, for once wishing he didn’t wake up.

 

 **Not necessarily an epilogue**  
He shows up on their doorstep after months of mourning, weary and tired and too thin for comfort. _Phil!_ , they all shout and he looks ecstatic at their outburst. Fury shows up behind him and it’s only the relieved, giddy, and absolutely happy even, look in his eyes that stops them from completely murdering him. 

_I’m awake_ , was simply all he, Phil, fucking Phil, says before he receives an armful of assassins and was engulfed in warm arms and they all collapse in a heap of crying and laughing mess. 

_You fucking idiot_ , Tony says in perfect tandem with everyone’s thoughts. And when Phil smiles around Clint’s lips, they think, yeah, everything’s gonna be fine.

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: While Phil is Phil, that Big Damn Hero Bad Ass Mother Fucker, I think that it would have taken him quite some time to wake up from having his chest run through by a magical asshole scepter wielded by an equally magical asshole of a Jotun. While I love Loki I find the most fun giving him a hard time.
> 
> Also, Auden’s Stop All the Clocks was fucking beautiful and the film Four Weddings and A Funeral made me bawl my eyes out like that time when Boromir died in LoTR:FotR. And, Gene Kelly is fabulous.


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